That's What You Get For Waking Up in Vegas
by M. A. Raven
Summary: Senior year, the WMHS Glee Club stopped over in Vegas on their way home from Nationals. First, it was all in name of spontaneity. Later, it was all about the student loans. Finn/Rachel Future!fic. Assorted background pairings may/will pop up.
1. Blinded By the Lights,,,Spring, 2012

**Author's Note:** First in a series/universe which spun out of a LiveJournal icon (of all things). It's a crack!fic premise, to a degree, but I'm making the attempt at trying to incorporate a hefty dose of realism. Let me know how it goes, eh? The "Vegas 'Verse", as this timeline is being called, will eventually be made up of stories & ficlets written by both myself and Ali, my partner in crime. I may or may not be posting her contributions to this compilation - that will depend on her preferences. Spoilers for the series, as of now, include canon material up through "Showmance" (1x02) and promos aired pre-9/15/09.

* * *

Even after almost three years of close-quarters contact with Rachel Berry, Finn's still never sure how she was going to react to something. She's got priorities, see, and for the most part they're pretty straight forward. Finn's even proud to count himself amongst them. But she's also got a dramatic streak a mile wide, the ingrained habits of an exiled control freak, and a tendency to misread interpersonal cues with panache. It made for an interesting mix, even under the best of circumstances.

This, well, this was not one of those days...

^__^__^

When it came to alcohol, Rachel had stopped being surprised at Puck's ability to acquire it _anywhere_ somewhere around Junior Year. He had some kind of a sixth sense when it came to liquor, and, after some consideration, she had taken Finn's advice and never pressed the issue. So she hadn't even blinked when jello shots in three flavors miraculously appeared in Puck's room an hour before they were supposed to leave for their obligatory "if you want me to OK this trip, then you need to do something education while you're out there, so take in a show. I'll expect a review on my desk the following Monday" evening of entertainment. At the time, and even after the fact, it seemed like a rather small price to pay for four days in Vegas in lieu of a Senior Trip or, you know, _spring break_. It wasn't Mr. Shue's fault that the only National competition he could get approval for them to attend had coincided with Spring Break, it just meant that all of the seniors in the club had felt the need to make up for the missed vacation in new and creative ways, hence the extended layover in Vegas on the way back to Lima.

The jello shots were a combination of celebratory toast and tactical defense against their evening of mandated "cultural experience", and everyone had tried at least one - even Kurt, who tended to avoid alcohol if he could help it.

Rachel had tossed back two, and she was reasonably certain Finn had gone through a few more before they all made their way to the main entrance of the hotel and out onto the Strip. If asked, Rachel would say that Las Vegas was not in the top ten locations she wanted to see before she died. However, when they made it to a national competition in San Diego and LowFaresDotCom decided to route them through Vegas, well, Mercedes had been right that it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. As they wandered down the Strip, the alcohol slowly burning through their veins and blurring out the finer details, Rachel admitted that Vegas had its own form of beauty, even if it just came off as gaudy in the daylight hours.

The show had been interesting, from a technical point of view, and not horrible from an entertainment quality standpoint. They'd agreed that they weren't blowing more than $40 a ticket, which had limited their options somewhat, but they'd still managed to squeak into a show with traditional "Vegas" showgirls, big feathers and tiny costumes and all. Rachel was just buzzed enough to disregard the obnoxious music choices, which helped a lot, as did the fact that Finn _wasn't_ shifting uncomfortably in his seat the way he did when he went to movies with Megan Fox in them. When it was over, they'd decided to break off from the rest of the group (most of whom had devolved into an intense discussion over whether your odds were better at poker, craps, or slots and if they should just do strip poker back at the hotel, which Artie seemed to be lobbying heavily for), wanting to take in the lights in lieu of a moonlit stroll.

It was _West Side Story_ levels of romantic, and Rachel just soaked it in. The warmth of his body, the security that came from having his arm wrapped around her too-small shoulders, the sound of his voice as they wandered around looking for somewhere reasonably cheap to grab dinner - it struck her, as they turned into a doorway that boasted an all-you-can-eat-buffet, that things would be changing soon. Good intentions or not, graduation was coming. Everything she'd ever heard about high school romances revolved around the fact that they didn't survive the transition to college (unless you were Mr. Shue, and that was something she didn't want to look at too hard, because _wow_ were there some "what not to do" lessons kicking around in that life story). It made her want to cling to the moment that much more, knowing it was coming to an end.

Finn seemed to feel the same way, and when they walked past one of the 24 hour chapels on the way back to their hotel, his joking comment turned into an awesome idea in a heartbeat.

Looking back, Rachel would try to pin the whole thing on Puck, but the truth was that they weren't _that_ drunk. Four and a half hours after the shots, she was buzzed but rational, and suspected that Finn was in roughly the same condition (although she knew for a fact that he'd put away a few more than the three shots she'd tried). Just relaxed enough to think that a monumentally stupid, if incredibly sweet, act was a phenomenal idea.

They made it back to the hotel riding high on adrenaline and life, barely making it to the room she shared with Tina before clothing was removed and the deadbolt thrown. It was, for lack of a better term, magical.

^__^__^

The following morning, things were a bit less rosy. It might have been better if they'd been so hungover they couldn't think straight, because that would mean they could blame their actions on Puck's handiwork, but the only headache that morning came from the ringing telephone that jarred them both out of a sound sleep. Clumsy with too-little sleep, Rachel stumbled out of bed first and managed to grab the phone on the fourth ring. "Hello?"

"Oh, good, you're not _dead_."

"Mercedes? It's, um-" Rachel glanced over at the clock on the nightstand and winced as she realized it wasn't actually all that early. Fuck, that meant someone had probably noticed when Finn hadn't made it back to his room, and ten AM or not it was _way_ too early to be dealing with this. "No, I'm not dead."

"Good, because you owe me one. Do you have _any idea_ what it's like dealing with Tina when she's drunk? Because that was _not_ in my job description for this weekend. I learned more about lesbian sex last night than I ever had any desire to know, you get my drift?"

"Um, yeah." Rachel swallowed hard, and glanced over at Finn who was watching her anxiously. She made a shooing motion, pointing at the door to the bathroom. He obliging disappeared, and a moment later she heard the shower turn on. "I'm _really_ sorry about locking Tina out of the room, I don't know what I was thinking."

"Oh, I know what you were thinking, girl, and don't think I'm about to forget it. You want to put Finn on so I can get this out of the way?"

Rachel blushed, raising a hand to her cheek even though she knew Mercedes couldn't see her. "He's, um, not here. Look, I've got to shower. Give me half an hour, and you can yell at me all you want for locking Tina out."

"Fine, fine. Blow me off, see if I care. Your ass better be downstairs for breakfast in half an hour, though, or I'm getting Puck to kick in your door, and I don't care if you're _both_ naked."

"Half an hour, got it." Rachel hung up, cutting off whatever grumbling Mercedes might have started on next. Running a hand through her hair as she attempted to settle her thoughts, Rachel looked around the room and wondered just what she and Finn had been thinking, because it wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure out why they'd locked Tina out. Her eyes falling on a folder sticking out of her purse, she let out a groan. Right, bad ideas had been the order of the evening, and that piece of paper was most definitely the crowning achievement of the night. Not that it had all been bad, but it was becoming apparent that Senioritis had kicked in now that they'd survived Nationals.

Deciding to take just a few more minutes before dealing with _that_ particular piece of reality, Rachel pulled off the T-Shirt she'd slept in and walked into the bathroom to join Finn in the shower.

^__^__^

Breakfast at their established default of the Market Street Cafe was exactly as awkward as Rachel had feared. Finn, big bad football star that he was, had bailed on her the minute she mentioned Mercedes' less-than-impressed attitude. Oh, he'd kissed her and promised that they'd work out the whole 'marriage thing' that afternoon (meaning figure out how to get a divorce as cheaply and quickly as possible), but he'd also left her alone by the elevators to contemplate her fate. The reasons for their combined stance on the marriage itself were simple, didn't even need voicing, really, although she'd done a fair job of it for the sake of posterity while they'd been pulling on clothes after their shower.

"We're _eighteen_, Finn! No one gets married at eighteen unless there's a baby involved, even in Lima! Think about what our parents would say! Our friends!! We'd _never_ live this down. And that's ignoring the fact that we can't even hold a relationship together for six months - forever? _Please_. I love you, but everyone knows we're a ticking clock. I mean, do _you_ want to end up like Mr. Shue?"

It was a rhetorical question, but it had made the point well enough. While they might disagree on the details, they both knew that they were better off leaving it behind when they went home at the end of the week. Mercedes was less sympathetic, and spent an hour explaining just what she'd had to endure when Quinn and Tina decided to make out (or possibly more, that was one area Mercedes was a bit shy on the details for obvious reasons) on the other bed in her room because "Quinn's always wondered what it's like, and what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?"

Rachel was more than happy to listen, in part because it gave the coffee time to work its way into her system. She was less happy when Mercedes started prodding her for details on what she and Finn had done after breaking from the main group. Rachel's answers ranged from vague to incomprehensible, and were accompanied by a perpetual blush. It was one thing for your friends to know that you're dating and hypothetically having sex. It was another thing for them to be sleeping in the next room and _know_ you're doing it.

Finally, Rachel was given an out when Tina and Quinn came staggering into the restaurant looking far worse for their wild night than Rachel felt. She left, claiming that she needed something in her room and she'd meet them by the pool later. The original plans had called for spending Friday on the town and Saturday kicking back before they flew home on Sunday, and it appeared that things were right on schedule. Feeling better now that she was caffeinated, Rachel changed into her swim suit and a grabbed a book before heading to the rooftop pool to enjoy the unseasonably warm weather - even for Vegas, 85 in late March was unusual.

It was sitting by the pool, paging through a book on performing arts schools that she'd brought along to compare programs at the places she'd gotten into (or at least applied to, since April 1 was notification day - when she'd called to give them the news about Nationals, her dads had told her there were a few envelopes waiting for her, but she'd been trying her hardest not to think about it since they wouldn't tell her which schools they were from or how thick they were), that she realized her original reaction to their impulsive decision might have been a bit hasty. She spent the next few hours considering her options, because everything was improved with a little planning. When Finn finally showed up on the pool deck, she dragged him into the hallway next to the bathrooms to inform him of her new decision.

"So, I've been thinking about it, and I don't think we should get a divorce."

"Um, ah, ahem. Okay?" Finn blinked at her, obviously confused at her change of heart, then glanced around to make sure no one they knew was in the hallway. She did the same, then returned her attention to the topic at hand.

"Look, if/when we eventually break up, we can get divorced. It's not like we're going to have to worry about division of property or anything. But being married means we're legally financially independent from our parents, so they don't have to pay for our college tuition according to the federal government, which means schools will give us more money. It doesn't mean we have to _tell_ anyone..."

"Seriously?"

She nodded. "Of course. Would I screw around with my future?"

"Good point." He frowned, practical concern rapidly replacing shock. "Wait, does this mean I need to get you a ring?"

"We're not telling anyone about it, right?" He shook his head in agreement. "Then no, you don't need to get me a ring. Finn, you bag groceries at the Pick'n'Save on the weekends. Be realistic."

"Right. So, we just forget about it?"

She nodded, glad that he understood so quickly. Most of the time, Finn was awesome like that, but occasionally he hit a brick wall and they were speaking different languages. It was very frustrating. "Exactly. Check a few different boxes on our forms, but that's it. Saves the money we'd have to spend for a divorce, I can take my dads off my FAFSA, it's a win/win situation."

"You _do_ realize that Ohio State's already offered me a full ride, right? I mean, I have these memories involving a really fantastic night at your place, but I know you have a little trouble keeping those kinds of things clear..."

She scoffed, only barely refraining from rolling her eyes. "Yes, I remember that night, and the reason behind it. OK, fine, so it would help _me_ for next year, and we have to be practical - there's no guarantee you won't blow your knee out and lose your scholarship before you've completed your degree."

"Does this mean we'll still have sex as long as we stay married?"

"Well, maybe. I'm not doing the open relationship thing, though, so put that thought right out of your head. Either we're together, or we're not. That's unrelated to the married thing. No reason to throw something like that away unless we actually want to marry someone _else_, right?"

"Um, sure." He shifted, reminding her that she was pressed up against him in a bikini and that he wasn't exactly known for his... control. He shifted again, and she felt her smile grow a little deeper.

"So, if that's settled, I think I need to run downstairs for some sunscreen..." She trailed a finger down the side of his cheek, allowing it to rest upon his parted lips. "Care to join me?"

^__^__^

The remaining time in Vegas flew by, and despite her concerns, no one seemed to realize that anything other than a "night of unrestrained passion" (Kurt's words, not Rachel's; contrary to popular belief, Rachel did not have any desire to quote Harlequin novels at the drop of a hat, she was just a tad melodramatic at times) had occurred. There was teasing, some good natured and some a bit more biting, but nothing that couldn't be handled with a smile and a blush; Quinn and Tina served as a much more interesting distraction for those of them who hung around the pool that afternoon.

As she prepared to leave, joking with Tina about futures and the production they'd seen on Friday night, she paused to open the folder from the little 24 hour chapel before packing it away. It was an innocuous thing, white with gold curlicues around the edges. The papers inside were simple, one copy of their marriage certificate, one invoice explaining the charges they'd paid - her spending money at work, but it was turning out to have been for a good cause - and two copies of a picture of the two of them, beaming out at the camera in front of a stylized painting of a dove against a dark blue background. She traced their likenesses, surprised at how _happy_ they looked - she remembered the evening, knew she'd been grinning like an idiot, but it hadn't really seemed _real_ at the time. More like a lucid dream brought on by their near-win at Nationals than an actual event.

Changing her mind, she slipped the folder into her purse instead of her rolling carry-on. It didn't mean anything, not really, but just the same she didn't quite want to put it away just yet. She and Finn would have the summer, she was certain of that. Fall, well, she didn't even know where she'd be going in fall. Regardless of where they ended up, though, she had a feeling that he'd like his copy of the picture, so she would keep it safe until they got home. After that, it was anyone's guess.

~ Finis ~


	2. All About the Benjamins,,,Spring, 2013

**Author's Note: **Second installment of the "Vegas 'Verse", written in collusion with the lovely AliFab, who also had the presence of mind to give it a brief beta-style once-over. Spoilers continue to be through "Showmance" and the promos aired pre-/9/15/09.

* * *

For some reason, after the dust had settled, Finn had been of the impression that being married (in the legal sense) wouldn't really impact his life much. Check a few different boxes on some forms, get eligible for a few extra student loans and grants, that was it. Given that he was sitting on a free ride to OSU, it was more of a favor to Rachel than anything else (well, and there was the fact that given the papers Rachel showed him right after they'd returned to Lima, getting a divorce was way more expensive than he'd realized. That might have been a teeny, tiny incentive) .

However, because it was _Rachel_ he happened to be married to, he should have realized that it wouldn't be that simple. In his defense, it had _seemed_ straightforward at the time. Then college happened, and he found himself abstractly pondering the concept of free time and wondering why he'd wasted so much of high school doing jack shit. First week of March, Finn came back to his room after conditioning work for football and found Rachel settled on his bed, laptop and assorted booklets out, earbuds in as she sorted through tax documents. No warning, she was just there.

"Um, hi."

"Oh, you're back. Good. Where are your W-2s?"

"Do I get to ask why?"

"Well, I've been doing some research, and it's definitely better if we file jointly."

Finn looked adorably confused. "File jointly?"

"As a married couple, as opposed to checking 'married filing separately'. There are all these incentives for married couples, so I figure we might as well take advantage of them."

"Um, sure. Wait, how did you get here? Not complaining, just, you know, I thought you were in Cincinnati until Spring Break?"

She shrugged, focussing her attention back on the information booklet which rested upon the keyboard of her laptop. "One of the girls on my floor was coming back here for a family thing. She let me tag along, and we split the gas."

"That makes sense." He let his bag drop to the floor. "But it still doesn't explain how you managed to get into my very locked dorm room." He slid onto the bed behind her, hands resting on her shoulders as he leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "Do I need to be worried about your feminine wiles?"

She made a soft noise in her throat, leaning into his touch even as she kept her attention on the far too complicated language printed by the IRS. "You know you have nothing to worry about." She flipped a page, settling more comfortably against him. "Just asked your RA to let me in. Apparently, he's seen my picture in here, so he didn't even give me a hard time."

He flushed, and wondered if she could feel the heat in his cheeks as he pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. He wasn't trying to undermine her well-intentioned efforts, really he wasn't. But it had been two months since they'd spent any time together, and prolonged celibacy was a lot worse when you knew what you were missing. He wasn't the only one feeling the time apart, either, as was evidenced by the fact that she held out for a record forty-five seconds before giving a frustrated sigh and closing her laptop in disgust. She turned, straddling his lap and leaning back far enough to be able to gesture with her hands. "I swear, they make it needlessly complicated. I mean, how many different ways are there to say 'poor student' in legalese, anyway?"

He nodded, attention captured by the cut of her shirt, which upon further examination revealed exactly the right amount of skin to tease while retaining all sense of propriety. It was that extra button, he decided as he reached up to trace the edge of the fabric; if she hadn't undone that one button, it wouldn't be so distracting, and he'd have an idea of why she'd just smacked him in the arm. "What?"

She had her hands on her hips, and an adorably frustrated expression on her face. "I said, if we can get this done _today_, we'll have the rest of the weekend to put to other uses. Now, where did you say your W-2s were?"

Finn sighed, and reluctantly let his hand drop down to rest upon her waist. "Desk, bottom drawer." He shifted, feeling the after-effects of the day's conditioning work beginning to manifest in less-than-pleasurable ways. "Mom sent them back with me when I came back from the long weekend."

Much to his regret, she climbed off his lap and headed for the aforementioned piece of furniture, rummaging around for the necessary paperwork. He swallowed hard as she bent over, skirt riding up just enough to be even _more_ of a distraction than her shirt. "So, why exactly are we filing like we're married, again?"

^__^__^

Three hours and two sets of iPhone directions later, they finally entered the nearest H&R Block. Finn had his W-2s and his school related paperwork - specifically his grant and tuition information. Rachel, true to form, had a disturbingly heavy accordion file with receipts of all shapes and sizes as well as a certified copy of their marriage license. As they sat in the waiting area, Finn was struck by a wave of cognitive dissonance - he might not feel like it, especially given how much he _really_ wanted to fidget, but he was an _adult_, now. It was incredibly disconcerting.

He flipped through the papers that Rachel had already prepared, skimming over the lines filled with scraggly penmanship that was one of Rachel's private pet peeves (no matter how hard she worked at it, her letters were never quite even). He'd admit, he hadn't bothered to really think about his taxes yet, but then his previous experiences with tax season normally involved his mom bursting into his room on the Saturday before April fifteenth and demanding to know where his W-2s were _now now now_, because she'd completely forgotten it was April, and she felt like it was her obligation to sort out his taxes until he went off to college. She'd watch old movies all day and there would always be really good snacks sitting around, and that was pretty much all he knew about taxes. He really _had_ planned to be on top of things, this year, but it was also still early March - he was just waiting for his end-of-term papers to be done before he sat down with the various forms and made his brain melt for an evening.

He glanced up when he realized Rachel was fidgeting, and reached over to place a hand on her rapidly bouncing knee, stilling it with gentle pressure. "Relax. I'm sure they'll know what they're doing. This is a college town, I doubt I'm the first scholarship kid they've seen."

"I know. I just want to, you know, get this done." She smiled, the movement tighter than he was used to seeing, echoes of non-existent stage fright and laryngitis scares nestled deep within her eyes, and he wondered if there wasn't something else going on.

"Rachel?" She nodded, attention refocused on her fingers as she played with the fastening of the accordion file. "Rachel, look at me."

She raised her head so abruptly that her hair briefly obscured her face, and she blew it out of the way with an annoyed huff. "_What_?"

"You want to tell me what this is really about? Because don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled to have you out here for a weekend, but if this was just about my taxes I could have mailed you my paperwork for a lot less than the cost of gas."

"Can I tell you about it later?" That was Rachel-speak for 'I'm going to distract you with sex tonight/tomorrow and then I'm going to leave and maybe tell you what it was on the phone next week.' Finn had been down that road, and it generally involved him spending a lot of time with the tackle dummies and finally calling Quinn or Mercedes for advice (and weren't _those_ some awkward memories).

"Tell me about it now."

She sighed, expression torn between annoyed and 'I am so put upon I make Job look like a slacker' (and who would have thought Christ Crusaders would be good for metaphors?) as she glanced around at the waiting area. It was empty, save for the girl working check-in and the low buzz of voices from the back of the cubicle area. Satisfied of something, she stood and handed him her folder before walking over to talk to the admin. After a moment, Rachel returned and grabbed his hand, tugging him to his feet. "She said we can use one of the cubicles, the empty ones, and she'll get us when they're ready for us."

"Okay." He allowed her to lead him through the small forest of gray faux-sound-proofing before she found an empty space with a couch. The whole process was kind of impressive, because the office hadn't looked nearly that big from the outside. He flopped down onto the couch, and tried his best to look non-threatening. Quinn had always told him he just looked dumb when he did that, but it seemed to work well enough on Rachel, and that was what mattered at the moment. "So, talk to me."

She bit her lip, looking suddenly fragile in the open doorway of the not-quite-a-room, and his concern increased when she crossed her arms and focused her gaze on the motivational poster on the adjacent wall. "It isn't, I mean, it's not like it's anything serious."

"Good, no one's dying. So _what's wrong_?" Over the years, he'd noticed that people had a tendency to decide rather quickly that he wasn't the most observant person ever. It was useful, for the most part, but sometimes the fact that Rachel _still_ did it could veer into that territory which bordered on deeply and truly frustrating.

She leaned against the wall, looking petulant as she glared at the image of an eagle soaring above text that extolled the virtues of leadership. "Nothing's _wrong_, I would just prefer to get our taxes filed sooner rather than later, and I really would have preferred not having to go to a professional to do it."

He blinked, because while Rachel had a very perverse independent streak a mile wide, she was also generally the first to delegate or hire out when something wasn't part of a skill-set she found worth taking the time to acquire. "I'm...sorry?"

She probably rolled her eyes, but he couldn't actually tell from his sprawl on the couch. "Don't be, it's not your fault. Your tuition paperwork was the least of my problems. Well, not the least, but my itemizations are a much bigger headache than your scholarships."

"So, then, why exactly is this an issue?"

"Because I'd rather not pay someone to do something I should be able to do _myself_."

That drew a frown, and Finn pushed himself upright until he was sitting on the edge of the couch cushion. Something in her tone was, for lack of a better word, _off_. "Wait, is this about the _money_? Because as much as I appreciate your concern, they give me a stipend along with my general scholarships. This isn't exactly going to break the bank."

She nodded, but still didn't meet his gaze. "No, I know. I just, it's silly, I guess." She sighed, arms visibly tensing for a moment before she appeared to relax. "Don't mind me, it's just performance season. You know how I get."

He stood, crossing the two strides of distance and tugging her into his arms. "Yes, I do know how you get, and this isn't performance stress." He rested his chin atop her head, waiting to see if she dropped the act. When she didn't, he pulled back far enough to slide his fingers under her chin and force her to meet his gaze. "What's really going on here, Rachel?"

She shrugged, tilting her head to break his grip and then pressing close against his chest, arms sliding around his waist and gripping tightly. "Dad lost his job."

"Ouch."

She laughed softly, some of the tension going out of her arms. "Yeah, ouch. Twenty years with the same company, and some venture capital group buys them out and it's layoffs every four months. We thought, after the last round, that they'd just let him stay on until he was eligible for early retirement." She shrugged again, a movement more felt than seen. "We thought wrong."

"How are, I mean, you know-"

"Oh, my other dad's still doing fine, and it's not like they're going to lose the house or anything. But even though they haven't said anything, I don't feel right asking them to help with the end of the year stuff right now, you know?"

_That_ was something he understood, and suddenly a lot of her behavior made a lot more sense. Rachel and her dads had kind of a strange relationship, at least from where he stood, but it seemed to work for them so he'd never bothered to try to understand it past a certain point. That might be something he had to change, if they were still filing joint taxes in 2014.

"Why didn't you say something?" It was a stupid question, and he knew it the moment it was out of his mouth, but then he'd never been terribly good at censoring them _beforehand_. Hindsight, and all that. He answered his own question before she could do more than stiffen in his arms. "No, never mind. I get it, I really do. But, God, Rachel. I'm your friend. You've certainly helped me out enough, over the years. I-" He was interrupted by a timid knock at the door, and looked up to see the girl from the front of the office standing there and looking awkward.

She fidgeted with her sleeves for a moment, then seemed to remember herself. "Um, Mr. Bujnowski is ready for you, now."

"Thank you, we'll be right there." Rachel dismissed the poor girl before he could take in much more than her presence. Once she'd left, Rachel pushed at his chest until he released her. "Finn, I... appreciate the sentiment. Let's just wait, see how this goes, and then we can talk about the rest, okay?"

He nodded reluctantly, and gestured for her to precede him out into the morass of cubicles. If nothing else, watching Rachel take on a professional tax preparer had the promise of quality entertainment

^__^__^

That evening, taxes filed and electronic reimbursement assured, he pulled out the forms they'd filed, and they went over them step by step, together. Because there was a certain point at which being married meant something aside from just a piece of paper, whether or not they wanted to admit it, and it wasn't like he was using all of his stipend, anyway.

~ Finis ~


End file.
